


that's all i have to say (so baby can we dance?)

by cymbelione



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-13
Updated: 2020-03-13
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:14:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23132266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cymbelione/pseuds/cymbelione
Summary: "We're not calling Dorothea."A dance for two people, as perfect as one could possibly ask for.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 4
Kudos: 17





	that's all i have to say (so baby can we dance?)

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a while! What, like, four months? An actual record for me lol. 
> 
> Anyhow, I hope you enjoy this work at your own pace! It's just a short little ficlet that I thought up during a ride home.

Contrary to what everyone thinks, Felix was actually the one who requested they learn on their own. 

“Your foot is very, _very_ painful love.” 

A tsk. “Sorry.” 

Beneath the floorboards, Sylvain could feel the neighbor’s familiar broom knock rap against their feet. If he closed his eyes, he could almost sync the hits to the song playing in the back. And if he really wanted to he could walk downstairs, apologize and turn the volume down. But with the phone so far away he’ll wait it out. They can wait. On the other hand, Felix still needs to get through the dance without stepping so hard on Sylvain’s feet. 

After a couple seconds, Felix takes his hands from Sylvain’s and mimics having a partner. His feet follow a particular pattern until one foot goes behind the other too fast and makes him trip up. A hand reaches for his waist. “You good?” He smiles as the other party grimaces then repeats the same steps with a bit more agility. 

Back in seventh grade Felix was always proficient in every sport that they learned. Be it basketball, soccer, volleyball or even _shuffleboard_ of all things. Basically, you can imagine how many recruitment letters he received after highschool. However one unit he always barely got a B+ in was dancing. Sylvain still remembers the days when he visited after Felix’s fencing practice; the young man would place his foil to the side as he drank water then found the nearest reflective surface to mimic the dance moves taught the day before. 

Over time he became decent, even arguably skilled in some dances. But evidently he was not what you’d call a “refined” dancer. If there was no skills test for dancing Felix probably wouldn’t have cared at all. Point is is that Felix with dancing is doable but not necessarily natural. 

Sylvain walked back a bit, leaving room between Felix and himself. “Look at me.” His hands lowered to where he imagined Felix’s waist to be and he let his eyes flutter closed. The backs of his eyelids were honey colored, light beaming and turning his vision from yellow to blue to purple. Smooth vibrato going lower and lower til the rap from downstairs is replaced with a familiar grumble. They’ve decided it is quiet enough. When he opens his eyes once more he is greeted by the familiar slip of a hand under his, the warmth of once cold hands, and dark locks of hair possessed by the love of his life. 

He squeezes Felix’s hand. A reciprocal squeeze. Confirmation. “You wanna try it again? Or should I do another demonstration.” Sylvain shimmies his hips side to side with a pout. 

Underneath dark bangs, golden eyes close and shake their head. “Again. We have to get this right.”

Slowly, he kisses the other’s hand. In a split second, Sylvain hears his pulse. It’s no longer fast, comparable to his youth. Breaths come and go, a heartbeat steady in his ear and in his chest, slumbering on peacefully. No more gasps of desperation, no more fast paced nuances, cold grins he never meant. Each step is cautious, despite how many times his feet have been a casualty. But those steps control him in the best way. Bumbling through their songs, they’ll get better. And Sylvain thinks he can put up with a few bruises for this moment. Their moment. 

A yelp. “Ow. Ok. Five minute break?”

Felix just pinches Sylvain’s sides and lowers his hands, never letting go. 

Neither of them move to the couch, nor the bed. Instead, Sylvain’s hands simply cradle Felix’s hips. To the ending notes of the music, he swings back and forth. Light casts a shadow alongside Felix’s cheekbone, revealing a small smile and a few eyebags. He gives a light kiss to his lips, lingering for a moment before taking a breath. Coming back, his lips feel a bit more moisturized and smell citrusy, almost like grapefruit. Just like the balm he had bought just yesterday and put in behind the bathroom mirror.

Sylvain tilts his head down the hall. Felix nods. Looks like he’ll keep using that brand. 

After a beat, a head finds his way into the crook of Sylvain’s neck. A slight tickle nips at his clavicle, silky hair that nudges and spills on his back. _The song has died out by now_ , Sylvain thinks. Whirring fans and footfalls tumble louder than their previous accompaniment. _They should probably go back to dancing._

“Want to continue?” The head does not move.

He can’t see but—“Sure.” His lips tilt upward and kisses behind his ear. Only for a second though. They really do need to master the dance by their wedding reception. 

Sure, if Doro taught them they’d be professionals by next week. Whipped into shape, the paragons of elegance and charm. It’d be like a school dance except he’d sweep Felix, best friend and future husband, off of his feet instead of a faceless lady. Their steps would be beautiful and no one could critique their moves. Felix’s fake grade would bump up from a B+ to an A, maybe even an A+.

But as he watches Felix swipe through his phone (with a phone case Sylvain got him for his birthday, mind you) ready to replay the song that has been theirs since junior high, he can’t picture them being “perfect”. No amount of choreo could match their uneven step sequences. No dance studio had an annoyed neighbor, a rickety fan that hasn’t functioned properly since 2009, or the uneven glow of Felix’s old blinds. Yet there was no Dorothea telling them to be less mushy, more structured. They danced like how they loved; messy, imperfect but true to themselves. 

Sylvain hummed the song. Felix made him swear not to sing the day of, God help them, but Sylvain would do it anyway. If Felix would still step on his feet how could he not belt his heart out claiming lack of sobriety?

“ _I talk a lot of shit when I’m drinking baby. I normally go a little too fast.”_

One step, two steps. A heel on his toes again. He’ll manage. 

_“Don’t mind all my friends I know they’re all crazy, but they’re the only friends that I have.”_

He’s still humming. If he closes his eyes again he can hear another person humming along too (and with better pitch). 

_“And I know I don’t know you but I’d like to skip the small talk and romance.”_

“Are you ready?” Sylvain’s hands grip Felix’s waist a little tighter, wrinkling dark blue fabric. Admiring the glow of his ring, he sees the dip of Felix’s chin and musters all the strength he has to raise his waist to the air. His heart lurches in his chest and Sylvain holds back tears seeing his best friend, his love, his _husband’s_ unbound grin staring back at him. _I bet Byleth I wouldn’t cry,_ Sylvain remembers.

A lift. A spin. Everyone cheers. The background blue, gold, orange, and seafoam green. His old teacher’s assistant held tightly to the boar. Ingrid happily fed on skewers, cheering on the couple with a thumbs up. Mercedes dancing along with Annette and Ashe and Dedue. The cake looked immaculate, beautiful in front of a poster board with all their memories, pictures of things that led them there and sentiments eternal. Their clothes were stiff and pressed but that could only hold them back so much. 

Slowly, ever so gently, Sylvain let the other man down, replacing the hold of his waist with hands that reflect a band similar to his own. With a gasp, Sylvain held on for dear life and focused on two hands that so closely held his own. Hands that would always hold his, a pair that would never leave. Connected to a person he holds so dearly, so tenderly— 

Felix looks up at Sylvain wincing. “Sorry,” he says, grinning from ear to ear. 

His friends were waiting for them to cut the cake, Sylvain knew. There were still speeches to be made, gifts to be exchanged and greetings from both families to be received. Sylvain’s head began to lower and let himself kiss Felix, enjoying the moment as it came. They waltz on their own terms. What else could he ask for? 

“You’re definitely not sorry.”

Felix licked his lips, tugging a bit on Sylvain's tie. He then shrugged. “No." A small smirk followed by another peck, for good measure, of course. "I guess I’m not.” 

_“That’s all I have to say so baby—”_

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Twitter: @hoesofgautier
> 
> Just a little disclaimer, this will probably be my last fanfiction for a while. Will be putting all my writing energy into the Sylvix Big Bang and other mini projects (a multichaptered Sylvix reincarnation au amongst other things). Have a nice day!


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